


Dean Talks Dirty In His Prayers

by chugster



Series: Dean Is a Master Prayer [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Talks Dirty, Emotionally Constipated Dean, Happily Ever After, M/M, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Pining Dean, Praying to Castiel, Profound Bond, Schmoop, matchmakers sam and gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chugster/pseuds/chugster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean really should've payed more attention when Castiel was telling him how this praying thing actually works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Is And What Should Never Be

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during seasons 4 & 5\. None of the characters are mine, I'm just here to play.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was Dean supposed to know that calling out Castiel's name with his hand shoved down his boxers would count as praying?

It had been two weeks, four days and a handful of hours since Dean had last seen Castiel and frankly, today was not a good day. Today he’d reached the point of jumping at shadows that may or may not have resembled angel wings in passing. Sam had laughed. Words had been said. It hadn’t been a proud moment. And now they were driving to the middle of nowhere to check a possible lead at ass-o’clock at night and Sam was giving him the silent treatment, which was a clue and a half as to how much of an ass he’d been.

Worrying about Castiel wasn't even the main issue here, oh no, it was just that there was a snow ball’s chance in Hell he was going to get any sleep if his mind went on and _fucking on_ imagining the worst case scenarios. He was crawling out of his skin in the dead of night, the tightness in his chest preventing any hope of sleep happening any time soon. Next thing you knew there was light peeking in from between the curtains and the only thing preventing him from unraveling at the seams was a strong cup of coffee with something even stronger in it to smooth out the sharp edges of the morning.

The world as Dean knew it was pretty bad; it came at you all teeth and claws and fucked you over, often in the most inventive ways and when you least expected it. It was a dangerous place for a fallen angel and especially for Castiel, who was just as terrible at bluffing and lying as he was at being careful or subtle. These, Dean assumed, were vital qualities for dealing with hostile angels. On the other hand, Castiel was a trained soldier on a faith-fueled mission from God himself, so maybe it was the others in the world that Dean should be busy not-worrying about.

Knowing this, however, did little to soothe his anxieties.

Dean was slowly waking up to the fact that somewhere along the way he’d managed to develop a personal interest towards Castiel. The interest had snuck up on him, unnoticed and mostly unwanted, grown roots and made a space for itself and was by now a bitch to shake off. Not that he hadn’t tried, mind.

Dean didn’t exactly like having all these feelings for Castiel but he was man enough to admit that it was becoming an issue and he was dealing with it the best he knew how. This mainly consisted of blocking it out, not thinking about it, letting the sleeping bears lie and pretending it wasn’t there until it went away on its own. So far the success of the method had been minimal, hence the rising stress levels.

But whether Dean liked it or not there was tension between him and Castiel, some weird connection that pulled him in and left him twitchy for the rest of the day when he noticed the closeness. He didn’t have a clue if Castiel felt it too or if he was as oblivious to the human condition as he seemed half the time. Dean didn’t doubt Castiel’s devotion to their cause and by extension, to him, but for all he knew angels weren’t even equipped to feel the sort of physical attraction and affection that humans excelled at.

The truth was that sometimes the combination of fighting the good fight and doing it with Castiel left Dean not only pumped full of adrenalin, but also horny. In these cases horny lead to frustrated which often lead to Dean shouting at the cause of that frustration, which resulted in Castiel looking like a kicked puppy and Dean looking for ways to make amends, starting with him actually trying to be nice to the goddamn angel, which was weird enough all on its own. The kicker was when Dean being nice lead to Castiel trying to smile, or trying not to smile, Dean wasn’t always sure which, but the expression lit up Castiel’s entire being and made it near impossible for Dean not to stare. This was terrible, since it also made Dean want to _lick something off an angel of the Lord_ , which was so far beyond wrong that Dean gave himself whiplash trying to nope his mind away from the image, only to return to it in moments of weakness.

It all amounted to a near permanent case of blue balls and only one guilt-ridden way to break the tension.

\---

The lead they were following turned out to be a trap and so, roughly two hours and exactly three decapitated vampires later, Dean pulled the Impala in at the sight of a suitable motel. The sign in front promised vacancies and the place looked like it needed the money so Dean remained hopeful even if it was past four am and he and Sam looked like they’d crawled the last mile or two in a bloody trench. Dean’s brain was running on fumes and was largely occupied by thoughts of _an actual bed with an actual mattress and an actual pillow and blankets_ and yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help wondering whether Castiel would have answered if they’d needed his help at some point. He knew it was too late to ask now. Not knowing whether the angel was okay and ignoring them or in some kind of trouble was the root of most of Dean’s anxiety these days.

At the reception there was a girl who couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old, looking from Sam to Dean to Sam again, angry at the world in general like teenagers often are, but especially so at the two fuckers that came in at four am looking like murder. Or murderers. The girl seemed otherwise unaffected and Dean had the suspicion the welcome wouldn’t have been any warmer had been more respectable-looking.

“A room with two queens,” Dean said with what he hoped was a winning smile as he took out his wallet.

“Nope,” said the girl. “Only single rooms with doubles. Take it or leave it.” Dean was sure the kid was flat out lying to get them to pay more but he was also tired to the bone. The collection of small cuts and bruises he’d managed to gather during the last hour were a dull but constant ache. Calling out her bluff seemed like a hassle he could do without.

“You know what, kiddo? Fine. Two rooms. Ground level.” Sam raised an eyebrow but made no comment so Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about the extra cost.

The girl made no comment, didn’t whoop for joy or even crack a smug smile. After a while of tapping at the computer she handed out two sets of keycards. “Check out’s at noon. No exceptions. Rooms six and seven, after the door to your right at ground level. We hope you enjoy your stay and so on.” There was no eye contact and it was abundantly clear she didn’t give a flying fuck whether Sam and Dean enjoyed their night or not.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean payed with cash and took the keycards from the desk. He then made a hasty retreat outside with Sam not two steps behind him. They had a place to crash and that in itself was a small victory.

Besides, they could both use some time away from each other and with the current job over and out with, a little privacy went a long way in terms of stress relief and hopefully a good night’s sleep.

\---

Dean’s fingers curled around his cock, smooth but light, touching to tease, the pressure just enough to slowly build up his pleasure. His eyes squeezed shut to block out the light from the bedside lamp, to block out the skeevy motel room entirely and to concentrate on trying to make it last. But try as he might he couldn’t still his hips for long, couldn’t keep from seeking more friction and racing to the finish line. Moments later his fingers were firmly grasping instead of teasing, his breath punching in and out of his lungs as he felt the familiar warmth of a long due release curl inside him.

It came as no surprise when his thoughts took a sharp turn to the left and found shape in the form of tousled dark hair, blue eyes and the idea of Castiel’s face between his legs and stubble burn on his inner thigh. Dean had grudgingly accepted that the angel had become something of a guest star in his wank fodder. It was the first time he called Castiel’s name out loud, though, and seconds later Dean heard the now familiar flutter of a trench coat at the foot of his bed.

He yanked his hand away from his dick like it was burning and scrambled to sit up, gathered the ugly motel duvet around his hips just in time to look up and see Castiel poised to fight, his angel blade drawn and his eyes scouring the small room for enemies. The sight made Dean’s dick throb but a split second later humiliation cut through the haze of arousal and his erection was nothing more than a painful memory.

Castiel pocketed his weapon and looked at Dean, his head tilted in a familiar angle. “You are not in any danger, Dean,” he said, stating the obvious. All the tension left him and he seemed almost relaxed, his opening line a cue for Dean to tell him he was wrong, that there was indeed a whole bunch of demons in the closet and more lurking underneath the bed, which was why he’d wanted Castiel there. Obviously.

But as it was, Dean suffered from a severe loss of blood flow to his brain and failed to come up with a plausible excuse. Instead he decided to push through the awkwardness, blatantly ignore the glaring lack of demons and stall for time.

“Don’t get me wrong I’m glad to see you alive, Cas, but what the Hell are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?”

“You prayed for me, Dean,” Castiel answered patiently, as if explaining it to a small child. “Your need was abundantly clear so I assumed there was an emergency.”

It was reassuring to hear Castiel was paying attention to his varying levels of distress but how was Dean supposed to know that moaning Castiel’s name with his hand down his boxers would count as a prayer? “Oh. Well. As you can see, there’s no emergency,” Dean said. “Just plain old me here. Not in danger. As you can see.”

Silence fell as Dean tried to figure out a way to escape the situation. Castiel seemed ready to wait him out, showing no signs of leaving any time soon. Then again he rarely did, popping in and out of existence with no hint or warning, so really there was no point in trying to read him for signs of anything.

“So to prevent any false alarms in the future, how exactly does this angel hotline work?” Dean asked when the silence was getting unbearable. He kept his focus on the intertwined patterns of orange and green on his covers rather than on the angel whose name had tasted so sweet tumbling down his lips just moments before. Dean was sure Castiel could smell the sex on him.

“It’s a complicated process,” Castiel said, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

Dean cursed the angel’s unwillingness to volunteer important information. “Just humor me, Cas, okay?”

“You need intent and faith in the angel that you’re praying to. You begin by calling the angel by their name and then state your message. This is, of course, a much simplified description of the process, and it doesn’t always have to be that formal. Should the need arise, I can pick up and respond to intense emotions as well.”

Castiel sounded like he was repeating something he had already said a few times before, which was probably true. Dean only wished he’d paid more attention on the first time. “It’s not unlike a radio, but with some voices clearer than others. Other angels can be heard the best but I can focus on a particular voice –angel or human– and hear it better. A strong emotion or need amplifies the voice further. You, for example, were very loud today,” Castiel finished, which made Dean’s head spin and his heart sink.

“So that’s what happened, then?” Dean asked, momentarily distracted by this new information. “You spied on my thoughts?” Frankly, Dean wasn’t completely clear on what he’d been thinking and what he had or hadn’t said out loud, but his thoughts? Off-limits and none of Castiel’s business, dammit.

“No, it was most definitely a vocal call,” Castiel was quick to correct him. “Not something you normally do with such conviction without a good reason. Are you sure you don’t need my help with anything, Dean?” With any normal person Dean would have read the line as flirting but Castiel was neither normal nor a person so he didn’t know what to think. The angel’s impressive poker face gave away nothing.

Dean tried not to squirm under the angel’s attention but it was proving difficult. His erection had given up the game some time ago, but with Castiel looking at him like that? Well. “Nope. No need for any assistance. Definitely not.”

Then Dean was struck with an idea– “You know what? It was all a dream. A bad dream. A nightmare.”

Luckily Castiel seemed willing to take Dean’s explanation at face value and not dwell on his reasons for calling out Castiel’s name in the middle of the night, while panting alone in bed with the lights on full blast. Dean wasn’t always sure of the true extent of Castiel’s ignorance, but surely his activities must have been obvious even to an angel of the Lord. _Surely._

“Of course, because of our bond I’m particularly sensitive to your prayers,” Castiel continued easily on their previous topic, derailing Dean’s thoughts yet again and bringing them back to the here and now.

Dean felt like banging his head against something hard and unforgiving. “Not again with the profound bond, Cas- what does it have to do with this?”

“I don’t know the full extent of it but I can hear your voice over everything else, over all other prayers, even other angels. There’s a difference in volume depending on whether you vocalize your prayers or not, but your voice stands apart from anything else,” he said. “I can always hear you, Dean.”

It was an overwhelming piece of information, bordering and then tipping on the side of uncomfortable. One thing was sure: Dean was never jacking off again, ever.

“So you mean all those times you didn’t respond you were just being a jackass?” he asked before the gravity of the situation fully sank in, and then raised his hand to shush the angel’s response. “Wait. You mean always when I want you to, or always when you want to?”

Castiel looked like Dean had suggested something highly immoral. “I won’t access your thoughts without your permission, Dean.”

“But you could?” Dean said, pressing the case.

“Possibly,” Castiel said, clearly ill-at-ease at having to admit it. “But I have no interest in reading your mind, Dean. It’s just something that happens if you shout at me loud enough. I’ll never purposefully look in on your thoughts without your permission but blocking you out completely is not safe either,” he continued quickly, pacing the room in an all too human show of emotion. While Dean understood the importance of an open line of communication, he was also very keen on keeping his private thoughts private.

“Well, isn’t that awesome,” he said under his breath. Castiel stopped to frown at him and Dean huffed in annoyance. The angel’s inability to grasp sarcasm was an endless source of either amusement or frustration, depending entirely on Dean’s mood at the time. Needless to say it was far from amusing now.

“Could you block me out, if you truly wanted to? Temporarily? Or even partially?” Dean tried one last time.

Castiel thought about it for a short moment, which in angel terms was probably an equivalent of hours spent meditating and looking at the issue from all possible angles. “I don’t know,” he said at the end of it. “I’ve never thought to try it before.”

Dean saw this as the glimmer of hope it was. Hope for a little privacy the next time he felt like daydreaming about Castiel’s constantly covered up body, his attractive but ultimately inexpressive face or the distant but persistent thought of wings that played havoc on Dean’s mind. It was completely ridiculous, what it was, and Dean was the first to admit it. “No time like the present,” he offered cheerfully.

“I could try to do something about that,” Castiel agreed hesitantly. “If you really wanted me to.”

“Yes, I want you to,” Dean said as he stood up and grabbed his jeans from the chair he’d thrown them at. Damned if he was going to keep having this conversation in his underwear. “Put up some firewalls and go hang around the parking lot or the North Pole or wherever it is you like to go on your down time, and I’ll contact you. You try your very best to not just ignore me like you apparently usually do, but to not hear me at all. I’ll do a thought prayer and an out-loud one. Come back in five if you don’t hear anything, or as soon as you hear something.”

Dean scanned the room in search of his t-shirt and finally fished it out from underneath the bed. When he’d pulled it over his head, Castiel was gone.

“Alright. Let’s do this, then,” he muttered, and started his silent prayer to Castiel. He tried to inject as much intent into his message as possible and hoped against hope that Castiel’s walls were tall enough so that he wouldn’t hear a peep from him. Dean thought this more private message through a couple of times, then cleared his throat and- “Cas, if you can hear me, get your feathery ass back here. Please?”

Dean waited until Castiel appeared back in the room, not five minutes, but seconds after he’d called him. He glared at Dean who tried to look innocent. “It’s my wings that are feathery, not my ass,” he said.

“Figure of speech, Cas,” Dean winked and immediately slapped his brain for it, trying to train himself out of the habit of casual flirting he’d developed. “So I gather you had no trouble hearing me when I spoke the words out loud, but did you catch the earlier message?”

Castiel looked very suspicious. “No.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, and this time he meant it. “Now, how about having that partial sound-proofing on your angel radar permanently? I mean, I can obviously still reach you when I need to, and this way you can’t hear me by accident when I really don’t want you to. Say, the next time I have a bad dream or something. Can you do that for me, Cas?”

“I… Yes. If you want me to, then yes. But I still don’t understand why you’d want to keep me unaware of whatever it is that troubles you. I could help.”

Dean could see that Castiel was genuinely worried. Guilt twisted in his gut but there was no way in Hell –he simply couldn’t tell him. Not yet, anyway. Possibly not ever.

“Look- I’m sorry, Cas. This is stupid and I’m sure you have better things to do than saving me from my own subconscious. And besides, I really need you out of my head. A man’s entitled to some privacy every once in a while, you know?”

“It wouldn’t have stopped me coming here tonight, Dean,” Castiel said quietly. The unspoken _you called out my name_ hung heavy in the air between them.

“And now I know to be more careful next time,” slipped through Dean’s mouth without him being quick enough to catch it. If he was tripping on his own lies it was really getting too late and he was getting too tired. Castiel needed to go.

“Dean-”

“Just trust me on this one, Cas, it’s what’s best for both of us. It’s been a long day and I need to get some shut-eye, okay? Goodnight.” Dean turned his back on Castiel, trusting the angel to take the hint and leave. He grabbed the neckline of his t-shirt and pulled it off over his head, his jeans following the shirt on the floor soon after.

Dean climbed back under the covers and let his face hit the pillow. When he chanced a peek at the foot of his bed, Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

 

 


	2. When The Levee Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere during the last year Castiel had learned how to smile and Dean had never fully recovered.

After the particularly mortifying incident at the motel Dean swore never to make the same mistake again, under any circumstances, ever. This didn’t mean he stopped wanking over Castiel, but he did get more careful with how he got there. His touch became measured rather than impulsive, his mouth firmly shut, blocked, or stuffed with something to prevent any accidental name-calling, and just to be sure, his mind steered far away from thoughts that would land him in a world of trouble.

Not that he didn’t accidentally-on-purpose toe the line every once in a while. For example, picturing a pair of blue eyes watching him with an intense focus as he touched himself were fine; could be anyone’s.

Strong hands on his back, fingers running down his spine and a hungry kiss pressed into his shoulder, so far so good. _Could be anyone._ Could be that perfectly wonderful girl from two towns over with the generous cleavage and the devious smirk, it could very well be her. Should very well be her.

However, thoughts like _I wish you were here_ were dangerous as they left him less room for denial. The same went for _please, touch me here_ or _I need you inside me_ , which Dean barely caught himself from thinking the other night.

Directly addressing Castiel like that brought him to the forefront of Dean’s thoughts and getting carried away was what had gotten him in trouble the last time. If he wanted to keep control of his words, he needed to keep control of his thoughts. The bad news was that the trick was far easier said than done, especially when balancing on the edge of an orgasm.

Dean felt he couldn’t risk his friendship with Castiel to expose these damned precious feelings he had for him. Castiel was too valuable to him –and to Sam too– to lose over something as insignificant as this. And it was insignificant, at least that’s what Dean kept telling himself. He could keep it under wraps.

He really thought he could. And he did, for nearly a year.

\---

For anyone keeping a record, it was all Gabriel’s fault. Well, him and Sam’s, but Dean was more inclined to blame Gabriel than Sam on pretty much anything so this one was on him too.

He should send him a gift basket or something.

\---

Dean, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel had gathered together to celebrate the death of the Norse god Loki and the revival of Archangel Gabriel that had immediately followed. There had been drinking. Dean and Sam were having beer and the angels something else spiked with whatever it was that Gabriel had provided, so that he and Castiel could get nice and drunk too without having to consume a liquor store or several to get there. More civilized this way, Gabriel had said and Castiel had sheepishly agreed.

They had decided to have the party in Sam and Dean’s current motel room, which Gabriel had redecorated and upgraded upon arrival with a snap of his fingers. The room was now bigger with two king size beds instead of the old two queens, two plush couches and an enormous flat screen TV. Gone was the ratty carpeting, evidence of water damage on the ceiling and the suspicious stains, gone was the odd smell and the elaborate patterns of mold in their tiny ensuite. In fact, Dean could see a giant tub through the open bathroom door. Dean wasn’t sure they’d even had a bathroom door before.

Compared to their original room it was pure luxury, an indulgence for any man that had spent most of his adult life on the road. On Gabriel’s more refined standards he was probably still slumming it.

Two hours in and the four of them were all happily buzzing with the combination of alcohol and a giddy sense of victory and survival. They were in what was now the sitting area of their newly designed rooms, with Sam and Gabriel half facing each other on one of the couches and Dean and Castiel comfortably slouching on the other. The TV was on with the voice turned low, showing endless reruns of old soaps. There were two glasses and an assorted selection of bottles on the low table next to the couches. In the middle of the table were cupcakes, cookies, candy canes and piles and piles of colorful confections that Gabriel had waved into existence.

Castiel had long since shrugged off his trench coat and tie, which were now neatly folded across the back of a chair. Gabriel had goaded the other angel into unbuttoning first one and then two top buttons of his button-down, which had led to Dean all but drooling over Castiel’s neck that was now generously exposed. Dean could have kissed Gabriel for his positive influence in this development and judging by the wink Gabriel sent his way when Castiel’s back was turned, Gabriel knew exactly what Dean was desperately trying to hide.

“Having a good time there, Cas?” Dean clicked his bottle with Castiel’s still half full glass of something blue and took a long pull from his own poison of choice.

“Surprisingly enough, yes,” Castiel said and tipped his glass to Dean. “It’s a nice party.”

“Yeah, Gabriel sure knows how to throw one.”

“The company’s nice, too,” Castiel continued with a small smile on his lips, looking at the glass in his hands instead of Dean.

Somewhere during the last year Castiel had learned how to smile and Dean had never fully recovered. Dean had been stupidly attracted to Castiel when he’d been all blank-faced and serious and full of divine righteousness, and that was before Castiel had loosened his tie a little and learned to embrace the human side of things every once in a while. At that point struggle had been futile.

“Well. I’d say a third of the company’s nice, one third is at best a tolerable bastard, and the last third is my brother,” Dean countered, then laughed at his own joke. Castiel’s smile grew warm and Dean felt it all the way to the bottom of his stomach.

“I think your assessment is correct,” Castiel agreed.

“You think Sam’s a tolerable bastard? That’s awful, Cas.”

“Sometimes. More often not.” Castiel looked at Dean and there was something apologetic about this smile. “Let me try again. Two thirds are nice, and the remaining third is both a tolerable bastard and my brother. But the two first thirds are also bastards some of the time, and the last third can be nice if he needs to.”

“Your pie chart’s a special one.”

“Yours makes a better joke.”

“But yours has more nice in it than mine. I think.” Dean took another pull from his beer, and then reached over to set it on the table. He reached further still and chose a cupcake from the basket of goodies in the middle. “You want one?” he asked Castiel and showed him another one at random, with swirls of minty green frosting, little purple and green striped candy canes and dark purple glitter on top. Castiel shook his head no and Dean sat back down with his own treat. If he sat a little closer to Castiel than he’d been before, neither made any note of it.

Castiel leaned in to inspect the cupcake Dean had chosen for himself. It had frosting in different shades of blue with tiny dark grey shark fins poking out. There was a deserted beach ball at the top, and it looked like the sharks were circling it. “That looks inedible,” was Castiel’s verdict.

Dean looked at it with glee and disagreed vehemently. “Shut up, it looks delicious.”

“How are you supposed to eat one of those?”

“Watch and learn, angel,” Dean said, and then proceeded to shove half of the thing inside his mouth in one giant mouthful. The horrified look on Castiel’s face was priceless. It changed to an even better, slightly amused one when Dean tried to chew, taste, and swallow the thing in anything resembling a civilized manner. The one he made after Dean closed his eyes and made a pleased little whimper was the best of them all, only traces of it left when Dean opened his eyes and finished savoring the cupcake.

“What’s with the face?” Dean asked innocently while wiping frosting from his chin. By now Dean was an expert in differentiating between several similar nearly blank faces and this was by far the one he liked best. His fondness had everything to do with how Castiel didn’t seem to use that particular expression with anyone else, but Dean had learned long ago to catch those kinds of thoughts early on and end them.

However, as tonight was a time for celebration, he was allowed to be a little fond. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Nothing,” Castiel answered and finished his drink in two big swallows. “I’ll need another one of these.”

“That’s the spirit. You know, there was raspberry jam there in the middle of that cupcake. I guess the swimmer didn’t make it.” Dean grinned, and then focused on the problem at hand. “Now where did Gabriel stash that magic ingredient that goes to both of you angels’ drinks?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Castiel confessed. “Gabriel-” he raised his voice to be heard over Sam and Gabriel’s quiet conversation.

“Yes, brother o’ mine?” Gabriel turned towards Castiel, raising a questioning eyebrow. Dean couldn’t help noticing how his hand rested high on Sam’s thigh, and how Sam didn’t seem to mind the slightest. This was… new.

“I need another drink,” Castiel said. Dean agreed wholeheartedly and emptied half of his bottle in his efforts to wrap his head around the possibility of _Sam and Gabriel_.

“Okay, you can have one,” Gabriel said with a shit-eating grin. “But just one, since it’s a school night.”

“I meant where is the-”

“Yes, yes, I know what you meant,” Gabriel interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s the green bottle on the table.”

“Thanks, assbutt.”

“Aww, you trying to insult me? That’s sweet.”

“Shut it, Gabriel,” Dean jumped in before Gabriel got the bright idea of teaching Castiel some real insults.

“And the knight in shiny armor swoops in to defend the maiden’s honor, how unoriginal.”

“And what are you in this story, the fool?”

“I’m always playing the fool. Fools are cool, you know. They know all the best tricks.”

“Hey. You could show me some of those tricks,” offered Sam and Gabriel’s smirk turned dirty.

“Anytime you like, Sammy boy. Anytime.”

Dean watched in stunned silence as Sam _flirted_ with Gabriel, the _archangel_ Gabriel, right under his very eyes, and didn’t even try to be subtle about it. And Gabriel flirted right back at him.

Sam’s cheeks were flushed high and his eyes sparkled with mischief and alcohol as he leaned over to Gabriel to whisper something in his ear. Sam straightened only halfway up to his previous position and a slow smile grew on Gabriel’s face.

“Did you just see that?” Dean asked Castiel, who was now holding a new glass of something blue. It was a significantly darker shade than the previous one, and Dean had no idea whether it meant the drink was proportionally stronger or weaker.

“I saw that,” Castiel answered calmly.

“And..?” Dean prompted, after no further comments were coming. He leaned back into the couch as if trying to physically distance himself from what was happening on the other couch.

“And they’re both well into their adulthood, they’re both in full understanding of the situation, as far as I’m concerned, free to do as they please,” Castiel said. He took a sip from his drink and made a face; apparently it was a stronger mix then.

Meanwhile Sam and Gabriel seemed to have completely lost track of the world around them. It was both sickeningly sweet and horribly unfair.

“But they’re…” Dean gestured towards Sam and Gabriel, trying to make Castiel see how seriously not cool this was. “They’re Sam and Gabriel. My little brother and a former trickster god. A human and an archangel. You don’t think that’s a little… I don’t know, weird?” Dean saw Gabriel lean over to Sam and say him something that made his little brother first blush, then giggle, and finally smile like Gabriel was the best thing since free Wi-Fi.

“They seem happy to me,” was all Castiel had to offer.

“Yeah, for now. What happens if it doesn’t work out for them?” Dean said more quietly, and wasn’t all that sure he was talking about Sam and Gabriel anymore.

Despite his best efforts Dean was unable to stop watching the two make out on the other couch, though. Or maybe he was just avoiding looking at Castiel, he wasn’t sure which.

Sam shuffled closer to Gabriel, backing him into the other end of the couch. Dean saw Gabriel look up at Sam with laughter in his eyes, slowly leaning back against the arm rest. Like under a spell, Sam followed until they were practically snuggled into each other. Gabriel’s arms went up around Sam’s broad shoulders and his back while Sam had his hand in Gabriel’s long hair, petting the angel like he was a huge house cat. Judging from the sounds that came from Gabriel after Sam got his fingers working on his scalp, he might as well have been one.

Then Gabriel moved his foot from where it was pinned against the back of the couch to where Sam’s thigh turned into Sam’s ass and pushed down. Sam just grinned and rolled his hips to meet with Gabriel’s, ducking his face out of sight down to Gabriel’s ear. Whatever he did or said must have been good because Gabriel uttered such a filthy moan that Dean felt himself growing hard just listening to him.

“I’d say it’s working out just fine.” Castiel said, bringing Dean back to their conversation.

“Right, because my brother and a trickster just screams happy, healthy relationship.” Dean said and finally looked over at Castiel, who, despite trying to hide it, seemed to be laughing at Dean. “What?”

“Surely you don’t need me to remind you about the existence of one night stands, Dean. Or two week stands. Or any other number of nights spent together while refusing to call it a relationship. Angels are not so different from humans in that sense– we don’t fall tragically in love with every human we decide to bed.” Dean felt it safe to say that during the time he’d known the angel, Castiel hadn’t actually bedded any humans and knew he was talking about angels in general, not himself in particular. It was still a bit of a shock to hear him talk about sex so easily. Dean blamed the alcohol-equivalent that Castiel had been sipping. “But it is highly uncommon for us angels, especially for Gabriel, to develop serious romantic attachments towards humans. Having sex for fun is one thing but angels tend to view committed relationships somewhat differently than humans." Dean remembered a time when he’d wondered whether angels even felt physical attraction towards humans. He laughed at the memory of his ignorance.

“And by different you mean..?”

“More seriously. The reasons to avoid getting attached are purely practical; anything taking space within the normal human life span would be considered short term for an angel.”

“The few decades they have together must fly by to the angel.”

“They do. And are all the more precious for it. Everything happens so fast here, it’s frustrating sometimes. I’m used to there being more time.”

“It just sounds like a shitty deal for an angel. I mean to really care for someone and then before you know it they’re old, and then dead only moments later- Sorry, man, but that just sounds depressing no matter how much fun you were having during that time. You’ll still end up heartbroken afterwards.” Dean swore he hadn’t actually meant for the conversation to go so morbid so fast, but Castiel seemed to take it all in stride.

“That’s what I meant by practical reasons.” Castiel nodded. He was quiet for a while and when he continued, he addressed the half-finished drink in his hands rather than Dean. “Of course there’s always Heaven if they want to prolong the relationship. Try for long term. People tend to worry over dying when it’s not the end, not really. It’s just different afterwards. Just like angels are different in Heaven than they are on Earth, so are the souls of people. The companionship changes but it doesn’t have to end with death.” Castiel didn’t sound like he was talking about Sam and Gabriel anymore either. Dean finished his beer and let the information sink in.

“But you’re not allowed in anymore,” he said, not realizing until the words had slipped free that up until now they had both been sort of pretending to talk about Sam and Gabriel, or at the very least kept the conversation carefully theoretical, but with this there was no going back. Dean waited for the other shoe to drop but Castiel seemed remarkably at ease with this new turn of events. He even smiled a little, which worked wonders on soothing Dean’s anxieties. “I mean. If you ever met someone.”

“Not through the front door, no. But I’d find a way in if I needed to.”

“And if the human hadn’t played nice and was directed downstairs instead?”

“I’ve gotten you out once before, Dean.” Castiel turned to Dean and then let his attention shift from Dean’s face to his shoulder where Dean knew he wore the evidence of the previous time Castiel had come to his rescue. Apparently Castiel refused to let the conversation drift back to the realm of hypothetical once Dean had gone and revealed his hand.

“Cas?”

“But I know it won’t come to that. I’ve seen your soul, and you’re not going to Hell, Dean.”

“Cas.”

“Yes?”

Quoting Castiel from earlier, Dean went to confirm what they both already knew. “You’ve gone and developed ‘a serious romantic attachment’ towards a human, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Castiel said and leaned towards Dean, searching his face and then adding, “As have you.”

“As have I,” Dean agreed easily with a stupid grin all over his face. “Except my case is even more severe. I’ve gone and developed the same condition for an angel." Dean took Castiel's hand in his and continued, "It still seems like a bad move on your part, though. Sure you still want to go ahead with this?” It would tear him apart if Castiel hesitated now, but luckily he didn't, not for a second, putting away his drink and taking Dean's hand in both of his.

“I assure you that it’s most definitely a good move. Besides, there are perks to being in a relationship with a human.”

“Oh yeah? Such as?” This Dean definitely wanted to hear.

“There’s all the physical sensations that affect the body. There’s touching, kissing, orgasms. Shared experiences. Humans are more intense in their reactions, but at the same time kinder, more forgiving than angels. You manage to do so much with the time you’re given, good or bad, it’s fascinating.”

Dean did a double take. “Wait, are you telling me you can’t have sex in Heaven? Or between angels?”

“Considering we’re all more or less siblings-”

“Ew, no. Sorry I asked.”

“Sex in Heaven is different. Less messy. More of a spiritual connection. Better make the most of it while we're still here, right? Now, how do you feel about kissing?” Castiel asked, leaning ever so much closer and turning his head to press the ghost of a kiss onto Dean’s jawline.

“In general?” Dean teased him, relaxing into the couch for what felt like the first time since Sam and Gabriel had started their show. Dean’s heart was doing double time, though, and Castiel moving slightly back to look at him like he was the dessert he’d been waiting for certainly didn’t help.

“No,” Castiel said, once again with the expression Dean had grown so fond of. Knowing that there had been _this_ right underneath the surface of that face all those previous times made something spark and catch fire inside Dean. “I’d like to kiss you, Dean. Is that okay?” Castiel asked softly, and for a few desperate seconds Dean could do nothing but stare.

Then his brain kicked into gear and words spilled from his mouth, “Yes, _yes_ , Cas, you have no idea-”, as he all but hugged Castiel in a rush to be closer, to finally touch him and then kiss him like he’d wanted to for a very long time. Castiel ended up straddled across Dean’s thighs, matching Dean’s eagerness with enthusiasm Dean never knew he had in him. Dean caught Castiel grinning down on him and beamed right back at him, still a little dazed that he was finally allowed to do all this without having to kick himself for even thinking of it.

He’d been so busy keeping his own emotions in check that he’d completely missed this, missed seeing these mirror images of his growing feelings reflected back at him. And that was near inexcusable.

Castiel shook him out of his thoughts by running his fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp after finding the hair too short to hold. Dean pressed a pleased little sound against the corner of Castiel’s mouth and kissed him back. Castiel’s hands were all over Dean and effectively trapped him in place, almost as if Castiel could prevent Dean from leaving simply by clinging to him like an octopus. Dean couldn’t help but smile at the thought and the kiss turned a little wonky, but then Castiel moved closer and opened his mouth to give way for tongue and there was _no way_ he’d learned that from watching the pizza man. Or maybe the angel was just a fast learner. Dean held on for dear life and stopped only to breathe, gasping little pants that Castiel had no need to stop for, gathering the angel just as close as he was holding him and not planning to let go any time soon. Not now when he finally had him.

\---

“So get this, the best way to teach two stubborn assholes a lesson really is to lead by example,” Sam said just loud enough for Dean to refuse to listen.

“What? Yes! Finally,” a muffled shout came from where Gabriel was all but smothered underneath Sam. “So our plan was a success.”

“A huge success,” Sam agreed and continued to fulfill his own plans that involved one former pagan god and the huge four-poster that the man had kindly provided for them.

 

 

**EPILOGUE**

Not long after Dean and Castiel both got their heads out of their respective asses Dean let Castiel take down the sound-proofing in his head that muffled their bond from its more profound levels to something closer to a normal human-angel relationship. After it was done Castiel could once again hear Dean’s prayers loud and clear even if the words never found their way out of his mouth. The practical benefit of this was that it saved Sam and Dean’s hide on a number of occasions, bringing back-up when things got too hairy on a hunt gone wrong. Castiel, too, seemed happier now that their bond had been restored. He did keep insisting that he’d only ever hear the thoughts Dean wanted him to hear or the ones that involved Castiel and enough intent to count as praying, which were the main reason the firewall had gone up the first place and were, at the time, more desperately private than anything else the angel might stumble upon in Dean’s head space.

When Dean found those thoughts not only generally accepted but actively encouraged by Castiel, any form of soundproofing lost all its appeal to him. In fact, Dean could now easily see the benefits of having a partner with the ability to both hear your thoughts and teleport to you from anywhere at a moment’s notice.

Naturally what Dean loved most was to play their connection to his advantage and break Castiel’s usually very cool and collected front with his so called prayers, and moments later have an armful of horny angel crawling into his lap. They set up some ground rules, sure, but it didn’t stop Dean from pushing his luck every once in a while. Especially after it became all too clear that Dean liked talking dirty just as much as Castiel liked to hear it from him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was inspired by a tumblr post way back when, but the actual dirty talk and the resulting sexytimes are sadly lacking in this installment. I'm not saying that there's a porny sequel in the works, but you know... There might be a porny sequel in the works. :D 
> 
> No promises, though, because I'm terrible at writing porn and even if I do manage to finish it I might get cold feet about posting it. Also it will probably take a forever or two to make it work so... You've been warned.


End file.
